To the Ends of Time
by Child of Loki
Summary: How far is Sarah willing to go to protect her family? Established Sarah/Becker. Sarah-centric
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Primeval or its characters… (but would seriously consider buying Becker off their hands, if that were an option.)**

**Author's Note: In my head, this is in the same universe as/takes place after my other fics, _Searching_ and _Confessions_, but really not necessary to have read them. Sarah-centric, just because…**

**This bit is primarily teaser, I guess. More is already written but not yet sequentially complete/postable. **

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The soldier on guard duty looked seriously alarmed, anomaly linking quintessentially terrifying cretaceous dinosaurs to downtown London, alarmed.

"Aren't you on leave, ma'am?" he asked nervously.

"Does that mean I'm no longer allowed on the premises?" Dr. Sarah Page put on a smile, not so much sweet as shark-like. At least, that appeared to be the reception of the gesture on the part of the soldier, who looked even more anxious for it.

Hastily, he logged in her pass, obviously eager to get her off his hands and on to being someone else's problem.

"Go ahead, ma'am."

She could read the question that twitched his lips and fought to escape his mouth as plain as day, despite that the fact that discipline won out and he remained silent.

_Does your husband know you're here?_

What did the captain do to his men that they were so terrified of him being upset? Probably nothing, Sarah mused. It was the stoic ones which were truly frightening. Not being able to read their emotions, predict their actions. That might be a bit unnerving in a superior officer. But she had no problems reading that particular man. And neither could he make her do what he wanted, no matter how many orders he might try to bark at her. That is, unless it was what she wanted to do.

Though he knew better than to even try.

Smiling, she made her way down the halls, circuitously approaching the heart of the Anomaly Research Center.

Nevertheless, she kept her eyes peeled, as to avoid her beloved husband. Well, really just to avoid the lecture she would doubtless receive upon being caught at work when she was supposed to be at home, resting.

She pulled a face over the thought of being stuck in their flat by herself, bored out of her mind, for another day. Another hour would've been enough to drive her completely mad.

After making several passes over the various laboratories, Sarah frowned. There was no sign of her team anywhere in the building. Well, she hadn't checked the weapons lockers or security hubs, but that was from a genuine desire not to be caught and sent back home by an extremely overly protective man.

If he did catch her, maybe she could try _the eyes _on him, convince him to let her hang around, or better yet, persuade him to beg the day off and stay home with her. But apparently, neither he nor their team was likely to find her lurking about, since none of them appeared to be in the vicinity.

Should she try Lester to ascertain their whereabouts?

That would probably have been worse than being scolded by the absent soldier, who at least supposedly loved her.

No, if Sarah wanted to locate some entertainment, she'd have to do so on her own. She snuck into her office, groaning a bit as she lowered herself into her chair. Heaven knew if she'd be able to lever herself back out of it.

Sighing, she absently rubbed her belly swollen quite large by pregnancy, and logged onto her computer system. Luckily, the ARC had become obsessed by tracking, and the location of every team member while on the job was meticulously noted. According to the daily update, Danny had taken a team to put down some prehistoric wolf-things. Probably not a good idea in her present condition, especially since that team included the overprotective soldier she wished to avoid. Ooh, but Connor and Abby were off returning some adorable lost prehistoric mammals to their native time.

That sounded fun. And _Captain Becker _couldn't very well complain over something that seemed harmless enough. Besides, he need not know at all...

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**A/N: Oh, is she just asking for it, or what? **

**A/N2: Was hesitant to continue this fic, since Sarah will not be in the new series of Primeval, but I've taken them so far from canon, anyway… (plus, even though we're close to more episodes, who knows how long it will be before I get my greedy hands on them, so meh!)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note: A little short, but hopefully will tide you over until the next chapter is finished…**

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"What're you doing here, Sarah?" Abby exclaimed, smile lighting the elfin features of her face.

"I was in desperate need of an outing," she replied, shading her eyes to examine the lush landscape on the other side of time, the early cretaceous to be somewhat accurate. It was as if she had traveled from London to equatorial Africa or the Amazon in but a couple of steps.

"Wouldn't something like, I dunno, the market, have been more sensible?" Connor snapped, obviously frustrated by the prehistoric rat-like creature, something called an _eomaia_, shying into the back of the cage and eluding his every ploy to catch him and return him to his native home.

The petite blonde glared at her friend before returning her attention to Sarah once more with a softer look.

"He may be an insensitive pig..." Abby accused. The pair of flatmates exchanged a glare. "But Connor does have a point. Should you really be out here? Anomalies can be dangerous."

_Et tu, Abby?_

Sarah decided to simply ignore the lecture. And thankfully, her teammates appeared to take the hint, returning to the completion of their task rather than continued harassment of her person.

"Are these the first you've been able to return?" she asked, as Connor yielded the cage to Abby who expertly lured the little _eomaia_ out. It even willingly hopped into her cupped hands, nuzzling her on the nose when she brought it to her face. The young woman whispered soothingly to the creature before placing it gently upon the ground.

"Go on. Join your mates," she urged.

Sarah placed a hand upon her belly, briefly wondering if she'd ever be as good with her own child as Abby was with the simplest of creatures.

"They're the first, out of ones whose original anomalies closed, leaving 'em stranded," Connor supplied, smiling, too, now that he was no longer on his hands and knees crawling after ungrateful, overrated rodents.

"Wow," Sarah commented. "How did you figure out this anomaly was the correct time period? I mean, it would have to be extremely precise, a matter of years...in all those millions?"

Abby burst out laughing, immensely confusing the archaeologist as to exactly what in her serious question was so hilarious. Sarah looked from the young woman near doubled over with the fit of amusement, her eyes watering, to the object of her laughter whose cheeks had flushed a bit in embarrassment.

"He-he left his boxers be-behind," she managed to sputter out between hysterics.

"What?" Sarah exclaimed, giggling threatening at the back of her throat. "How-"

"Don't ask," Connor moaned. "Point is we knew this was where the little guys came from, thanks to me."

"Ye-yeah," Abby teased, still breathless from her merriment at the young man's expense. "Because we found them li-lining the nest of some sort of large fowl. I'm surprised they wanted the things!"

"Abby!" Connor snapped, no longer able to tolerate her teasing. He was red up to the brim of his hat, poor boy. But it was so entertaining an exchange to witness, Sarah couldn't feel all that sorry for him.

"Sorry," she apologized, sobering up a bit. Graciously, she changed the subject. "I think we're through here. Sarah, you set?"

"Yes. Thanks for not sending me back straight off," she replied. "It's quite beautiful and I'm glad to have seen it."

Connor was already securing the crate to the back of the ATV once more, apparently eager to leave the epoch and the embarrassing memories behind with it.

"A story to tell her, one day," Abby pointed out, indicating the child growing inside of the archaeologist. "Visiting the Cretaceous before she had even properly seen her native era."

"Guess you could say she's a natural-born time traveler," Connor mused, smiling and returning to his easy-going nature once more.

"Yeah," Sarah replied half-heartedly. Suddenly, she felt melancholy for some reason. Probably just hormones.

"Let's go home," he urged the girls.

"Let's," agreed Sarah, rubbing her large belly contemplatively.

...

The party was a little shocked to find a smug Danny Quinn leaning against the side of their SUV, arms crossed, smirk on his face when they emerged from the anomaly.

"Looks like I win," he said.

"Win what?" Sarah asked.

"Oh, they bet on who would complete their mission first. Boys!" Abby rolled her eyes.

"You know, we haven't factored whether time fluctuates differently between various anomalies emergence points," Connor commented.

"Well, you should've stated... whatever that means... when the bet was placed," Danny countered. "Cough it up, Connor."

The younger man sighed and began digging through pockets.

"Wasn't Becker with you?" Sarah asked, simultaneously wanting to avoid her husband's lecturing and desiring more than anything to have him hold her close.

Danny Quinn gave them a blank stare. "Who?"

"Not funny," Sarah scolded, hitting him in the side of the arm rather roughly. There was a cold spot of dread in the pit of her stomach. "Where's my husband?"

"Er...he's back at the ARC," Danny supplied. Sarah sighed a little. Anyone in her circle of friends should know better than to joke about the existence of a person. That whole Claudia Brown/Jenny Lewis thing...it was all too creepy. And attempting to wrap a person's brain around shifting timelines could drive one utterly mad. Point in case: Helen Cutter.

"I thought... never mind," he continued. "C'mon, I'm heading back there now."

He turned to Abby and Connor. "You two coming?"

"We've got to pack up first," Abby said, throwing a crate at Connor, catching him by surprise and almost knocking the young man over. "We'll see you in a few."

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**A/N: Where I am going with this is quite blatant, isn't it? That doesn't mean you shouldn't stick around, for isn't it the journey and not the destination that counts?**


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's note: Now we're cooking…

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The more minutes that passed without him, the more profound was Sarah's need to find her husband. It was like an obsession, consuming her entire being. And with each room discovered to be lacking his presence, the worse she felt. A weight had begun to press down upon her heart. All she wanted was to see him, to know he was alright.

It was ridiculous, she knew. There was no reason to think he had come to harm. But Danny had said he was in the Anomaly Research Center, yet she could not find him there. Not in his usual loitering spots (if Captain Becker could ever be said to loiter)-the armory, training rooms. Not even in places he avoided like the plague-the science labs, the administrative suite.

Eventually, she no longer cared about feeling ridiculous for her unfounded worrying. Ducking into her dark office (yet another room devoid of the man she loved), she pulled her mobile from her pocket and tried to ring him. The need to hear his voice entirely overpowered any reluctance for being lectured in an overprotective manner. He could say whatever the hell he wanted, as long as she could just know he was fine.

The response she received was far more painful than a simple lack of answer. According to the peppy voice, the mobile she was trying to reach was not in service.

By the time Abby found her, she was sitting on the settee, still in the dark, staring blankly at a wall. It wasn't that her mind was flooded by panic or hysteria. No, it was more that shock had settled in, making her a bit numb. And she knew. She realized she had known before they had even returned from the cretaceous.

He was gone.

"Sarah. Sarah?" Abby was crouched down before her, but it took the distant woman several moments to recognize her.

"What's wrong?" the compassionate blonde girl asked.

"I-I can't find him," Sarah whispered, her voice cracking, as she continued to stare at the wall.

Abby didn't have to ask to whom she was referring. Instead, the young woman put on a reassuring smile.

"It'll be fine," she asserted. "You'll see."

"Hey, there you are," Connor said jovially as he popped his head in the room. "Why are you sitting in the dark..."

He ran out of steam as he digested the scene in the dim office, the melancholy mood sobering his own formerly chipper one. Abby turned to her friend.

"Find Becker," she ordered. His rakish black hair bobbed as he nodded his head. And without any further words, he was gone.

Abby moved to sit beside her, placing an arm about her shoulders. Sarah tried to give her a brave smile. After all, she was being rather ridiculous wasn't she? It was all in her head. She was simply having a hormonal pregnant woman moment, like when she had felt so lonely in the flat by herself that she had searched through the laundry bin, found one of his dirty shirts and curled up with it to nap, the scent of him lulling her to sleep. Or in those first few months when she went from hating him with a passion as she vomited till her throat burned in the morning to being in voracious need of sex and basically jumping him as soon as he passed through the door at night.

That's all it was. She was simply freaking out with the need for a cuddle with the father of her unborn child- their almost ready to pop, unborn child.

"Sorry, Abby," she apologized. "I'm being daft, aren't I?"

"A little." Abby smiled, her expression making Sarah laugh at herself.

"Connor'll find Becker," she continued to assure, rising to turn on the office lights. "And then you two can go home and enjoy a quiet evening together."

"So you can make anomalies and dinosaurs behave now?" Sarah teased, feeling better for shoving the baseless dread aside. "You are good."

"I know," Abby agreed, winking. "Now if I could get Connor to do the washing up, that would really be something amazing."

"Oh!" Sarah exclaimed shifting about and rubbing her belly.

"What is it?" Abby asked, concern showing in her brow.

"She's moving a bunch. Here," Sarah replied, reaching out for her friend's hand and placing it on her beach ball of a stomach. "Feel her?"

"Yeah," Abby said animatedly, her eyes wide, her grin even wider.

"Probably upset that I skipped lunch to go out and play with you lot," Sarah concluded, still struggling to find a position that pleased both her and the baby. Giving up, she stood, supporting her lower back with a hand. She began to pace.

Where in the hell was Connor?

True, her man could be bloody stealthy when he wanted to be, but he shouldn't be that difficult to track down in the ARC.

Almost on cue, a tossled black head appeared, followed by the rest of the tech geek.

He wasn't smiling.

Sarah and Abby exchanged a look. All the good humour left both of their faces, as they watched Connor silently slip behind Sarah's desk and begin madly typing at her computer.

"Connor, what's going on?" Abby asked. The knot in Sarah's throat was too tight to permit sounds from escaping, let alone words. Both women briskly crossed the office to look over his shoulder.

"Becker's not here," Connor said quietly.

Sarah's stomach lurched. Something _was_ wrong. Horribly wrong.

"What do you mean? He's not in the ARC?" Abby questioned, although the look on her face belied her ignorant inquiry. She knew. They all knew. Even as Connor performed task after task, scouring databases so quickly that Sarah had no clue whether he'd legal access to them or not, they knew what they'd find. They hoped otherwise, but they knew.

"According to the records, he's never been in the ARC," Connor explained, eyes still focused on the computer monitor. Sarah wondered if he just didn't want to look at her. "Nor the military. Or anywhere."

"I'm going to be sick," Sarah announced rather calmly. There was no pain, no tears, for the moment. Only the most extreme nausea she had ever experienced. Her stomach heaved as Abby ran to her side, grabbing the bin and holding it out for her. Sarah retched and vomited until her stomach was dry.

The baby protested fitfully inside of her. _His_ baby. Their little girl. The daughter of a man who never existed.

_And there's the tears..._

They poured forth like a flood from her eyes, a torrent of salty, stinging water over her cheeks. She wiped at them, persistent in the battle against sobbing uncontrollably in front of her friends. She didn't want to be weak. She _couldn't_ be weak.

There was a hand at her elbow, another rubbing her back. She numbly let Abby lead her across the office until her shin bumped the sofa, and the younger woman sat her down. Once more Sarah found herself staring blankly at the wall, in the dark. Only this time, there would be no simple flip of the switch to illuminate her world. Not when he was...

She could hear the conversation between her team mates as faintly as if it were happening in another room.

"Danny didn't seem surprised that she's pregnant," Abby said. Her voice sounded distant, small, despite the fact she was still at Sarah's side. "He even said that Sarah's husband was here in the ARC."

"Right." Connor was barely audible, but the clacking of the keys pounded in her ears almost as strongly as her own heartbeat.

"I-I can't breathe," she suddenly choked out, gasping for air. Apparently, she were incapable of thinking about the loss of her husband and breathing at the same time. She tried to concentrate on the latter, but the pain of the former was a pressure crushing her lungs into pulp, squeezing her heart in a vice.

Abby's words were spoken softly and sweetly. And Sarah was thankful, in some small portion of her brain still capable of such considerations, for such a good friend. She coaxed her, distracted her, focused her concentration on her breathing, calming her no doubt in a way she used on so many frightened, wild creatures on the verge of pure panic.

"You alright now?" the gentle girl asked, tucking a strand of Sarah's hair behind her ear. Not trusting her voice, Sarah simply nodded her head. _Breathe in. Breathe out. Lungs expand. Lungs contract. Baby kicks me hard, bruising tender insides._

Even with her eyes closed, she felt Abby leave her alone on the sofa. Connor had asked her to look at something. A lead? Maybe Connor had made a mistake. Maybe he'd walk through the door any second. _Oh, stop lying to yourself! _He was gone. Oh god, he was gone!

_Focus. Breathe in. Breathe out._

There was excited whispering. And she just couldn't handle it.

"What is it?" she cried, her voice cracking, burnt from the purging of her stomach and tight from the knot that remained entrenched in her throat.

"Er...you handle this," Connor said quietly, hastily, thrusting some papers he must have printed off into Abby's hands. He had that animal-caught-in-the-headlights expression. "I'll tell Lester we have a Code Brown."

He bolted.

How could she blame him? If she was half the horrendous sight as she was the emotional mess...who wouldn't have run away given the chance? More than anything, she wanted to flee this whole nightmare herself.

_What?_

Abby was smiling. Genuinely smiling, even though she was desperately trying to hide the fact as she faced Sarah.

"Connor looked up your file," Abby began her torturously slow reveal. In reality, it was probably quite fast, but felt an eternity to Sarah's raw nerves. "And you are listed as being married."

Apparently, her words failed her. A sheet of paper was offered Sarah. Too damn curious, or in too damn much pain, Sarah harshly snatched it from her friend's grasp.

"Who the bloody hell is Stephen Hart?"

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**A/N: More coming very soon…**


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's note: So I'm a big fat liar. Haven't had the time to write at all lately (what with the Holidays…AH!). Took me a while to realize this part was basically already written and I could've probably posted this weeks ago…**

**Anyway, some angst. Because we all know my terrible affinity for writing that :-)

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**

Stephen Hart. She knew the name, never the man. This man who had been close to Cutter, who Connor and Abby talked about with affection in the brief moments they allowed themselves remembrances. How brave he was. How good a tracker. How handsome (mostly Abby's assertions). How dry his humour was, but nonetheless amusing. And Sarah had always accepted their descriptions with the sort of respect due such a loss of a friend.

But she had never known him.

And she _hated_ him.

In that instant Stephen Hart had taken the place of the man she loved, pushed him entirely out of her world, to be remembered by no one with such fondness, with no evidence that he had ever existed, she loathed him with every fiber of her being.

It might not be his fault. It probably wasn't his fault.

But he was not Becker.

This Stephen Hart would never look at her with those expressive brown eyes. He would never touch her with those surprisingly gentle soldier's hands. Never kiss her with those tantalizing lips, that teasing tongue. He'd never hold her in those encompassing, comforting arms. He'd never place soft kisses down her spine while laying in bed in the early morning light. Never whisper shockingly sweet nothings in her ear late at night.

He could never love her like the man whom was lost to her. And she would never love Stephen Hart or anybody else.

And it made her angry. The pain was still there, but instead of a profound sadness, a panicky fear, it had transformed into a seething, boiling rage. Rage at the universe for being so cruel. Resentment at her friends, anger at herself. For they had surely been the ones who had unintentionally altered the past, changed their present into this hell-on-earth.

It was basically the same for them. For all of them. Hell, Connor and Abby were even happy at the prospect of being reunited with their long lost friend, the usurper of Becker's life. They tried not to show it. But they couldn't hide it.

She knew she came off as cold and distant towards a man who was supposedly her husband. But she couldn't look at him without the remembrance of what she had lost stabbing her through the heart.

And Lester had no clue what a 'Code Brown' was. That whole insane Claudia Brown situation had never occurred in this timeline. It had always confused Sarah, but now, now she felt she truly understood what Cutter had gone through, what Jenny Lewis must have felt. She wondered if Stephen Hart felt the same when his 'wife' looked at him like he were a stranger?

"What's wrong, Sarah?" the man asked, disrupting her thoughts as she packed up her things to go 'home' for the night. _What home? _She swallowed back the lump. The only three that held the knowledge of the altered timeline had quick discovered the need to keep their mouths shut or risk serious repercussions, namely questions as to their sanity. She tried to play along. But the pain and loss was still so damn fresh that she was bleeding sorrow like a recently opened artery.

Sarah wanted to scream _'Go away and bring him back to me! Die if you have to!'_

"Nothing," she said instead. Blue eyes pierced her, so she added, "Not feeling well."

"The baby?" Real, heartfelt concern darkened his features. He thought she was his! Well, of course he did... God, she couldn't be, could she? A brief moment of panic struck her. Sarah just couldn't handle losing the only piece she had left of the man she loved. No, Sarah hadn't been changed by whatever event had altered the timeline. They had been outside of it, as had her daughter, safe in her womb.

Her hand had instinctively gone to caress her offspring, like the touch of her fingers upon her belly could connect her to the child anymore than she already was. Her daughter, _Becker's_ daughter was still restless inside of her.

"She's giving my insides a thrashing," she said.

Sarah couldn't fight the flinch as his hand caressed her belly uninvited. Only one person was allowed to do that without permission. And it was not this stranger. She did manage to bite her lip, however, and stifle the snippy remark, swallow the frustration. His caress was gentle, affectionate. It wasn't as if he were _trying _to hurt her. It wasn't his fault the fact of his existence was breaking her heart in two.

"You need some rest," he leaned in a bit, kissing her forehead. "Let's get you home."

Sarah blinked back tears.

…

God help her, she tried.

And more than anything she would've liked for it to have succeeded. Then, for just a moment, everything would be all right. Her husband wouldn't have been wiped from existence because she breathed on a butterfly and altered its flight path 136 million years ago.

The flat was unexpectedly, unaccountably, the same. What was the likelihood of that? And rather than comfort her, the familiar surroundings only cast in sharper contrast what -_who_- was lacking.

Still, she tried.

But squeezing her eyes tight and willing her thoughts to the absent man, Sarah could not force herself to believe that it was her _Captain Becker _spooning her close. Stephen Hart was of a similar athletic build, relative height. But even had she fallen asleep and forgotten all that had passed, she would've known it was a different man sleeping beside her. He felt different, smelled...well, sort of the same -of guns and a bit of sweat- but not the same.

She couldn't pretend, let alone sleep.

Slipping from bed as quietly as she could manage with her awkwardly giant belly, Sarah fled to the bathroom, locking the door behind her. The rug was plush, but not soft or thick enough to keep the cold, hard tile's presence from being felt when she curled up on the floor. She gave in to the silent, hysterical sobbing because she had never known a pain such as this could exist in the world. Not in all the relationships she'd had. Not in all the lives of people she'd known. Not in the tragic stories both ancient and modern. Not in the mournful, wistful, pining melodies of classical composers or pop artists. Never had she ever had a glimpse, an inkling, that such a pain existed.

If she had, she would've probably locked herself away in a dark cupboard to die alone, for the agony of that would be a solace compared to this wretched heartache. A heartache that sapped every bit of her energy, drained her soul from her body, etched weariness in her bones.

So, then why should what happened next have been a shock to her?

She hadn't slept an hour in the past twenty-four, eaten even less. Her mood was vacillating from consuming rage to terrible depression faster than she thought possible. Hours had been spent choking, drowning in tears. And her pathetic little heart was shattered into a million pieces.

Why would her body, the baby it carried, handle the stresses any better than her mind?

Nevertheless, she fought the pangs of labour when they came, barely recognizable under all the raw hurt of loss and grief. It wasn't denial that caused her to do so. It was pure stubbornness that drove her to battle her body's insistence that she was going to give birth. Most wouldn't peg her for possessing such an intractable streak, but she was an archaeologist after all. Determination was in their blood. Who else would spend hours researching, methodically removing layer after layer of earth, sifting through tons of soil just for the smallest clue, analyzing terabytes of data for the most meager of validations?

No, for her generally amenable nature, Sarah could be severely headstrong. Just ask...

She would _not _give birth without him by her side. She _could not._

Gritting her teeth, she sat upon the hard floor in the cold bathroom of the flat that belonged to some other Sarah Page and her husband, a stranger to this, the _real_ Sarah Page. (She would not allow herself to even consider the alternative.) If it had only been a matter of pure will, she would've succeeded in convincing her daughter to remain in the warm comforts of her womb, rather than coming into the cold, harsh world.

But her body had other plans...

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**A/N: Hopefully it won't be so long until the next bit…**


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's note: Sorry this took so very, very long. Really isn't worth it, is it?**

_

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She's got your eyes._

They all made that observance; the doctors, the nurses, her 'husband', her friends. But it wasn't true. It was only because they believed her little girl's father to possess brilliant blue ones -which while she supposed they were striking, held no allure for Sarah- that they attributed the large, expressive eyes to the mother.

No, Tru had her father's eyes. And it nearly broke Sarah's heart to be staring into the all too familiar depths. She choked back tears. She wanted him back. She wanted him to hold their daughter, to smile that damn smile that melted her insides every single time, to compliment her on the achievement of bringing such a beautiful creature into the world. She wanted her husband. Her _real_ husband.

"What's her name?" Abby inquired, still apparently captivated by the newborn babe cradled in Sarah's arms.

Odd, that. All that argu-_discussion_, and as soon as she laid eyes upon her, Sarah knew the child was 'Gertrude Becker', despite her protestations against his insistence upon the name. He would give no favour to any other name than his grandmother's, and they had let the matter drop. Had he known Sarah would deem it fit after laying eyes upon their baby girl?

"Gertrude," Sarah informed. The young blonde woman couldn't keep the distaste from showing on her face. Sarah laughed. "'Tru' is what I'll call her."

"Er..." Sarah added, "Stephen and his wife had chosen 'Sally', so..."

Temporarily sobered, Abby nodded quietly before resuming her wide grin over studying the baby girl.

"She's beautiful," Abby mooned.

"Abby!" Connor hissed where he stood anxiously peering out the door, keeping watch. "Get on with it."

Sarah had found an excuse when Abby had whispered in her ear that they needed a private word. What precisely it was, she couldn't remember, but her doting 'husband' had been all to eager to fulfill her request. Oddly, it disturbed her that she did not feel guilty over her simmering resentment of the man. But apparently not disturbed enough to actually feel guilty about it.

The younger woman's face sobered. Her eyes took on a hard edge. There was a flare of passion in their depths -/of hatred/? Sarah returned the serious gaze with a perplexed look.

"What is it?" Sarah asked, instinctually pulling her sleeping daughter closer to her chest. The newborn stirred, threatened to cry, but settled once more.

"Helen" was her friend's one-word answer. And it carried the weight of so many, much wordier, far more dangerous threats. Sarah knew her expression said it all: _'What about the bitch?_'

Abby swallowed. "She's here."

"In the hospital? What does she want? " Sarah's heart had leapt into her throat. The ordeal of giving birth had drained her to a point of physical exhaustion she had never felt before. But the mention of such a threat to her friends, herself, her child, and the adrenaline had already livened every muscle in her body.

"No, not here _here_," Abby corrected. "At the ARC."

The girl laughed, a bitter, ironic sound that made the pixie-like girl seem so much older than her years.

"She's part of our team. Kosher."

"What? She's supposed to be dead!" Sarah exclaimed. Things were just too bloody weird. This world! It was all kinds of fucked up.

"Professor Cutter was the crazy one in this timeline," Connor muttered vehemently from the door. The death of his mentor had struck the young man especially deep, a wound profoundly felt in such a soft heart.

"Ran off through the anomalies," Abby continued to explain. "Basically the same story-only in reverse."

"It's like bloody Bizarro World," Connor again muttered gloomily from his station at the door.

"You're not buying Helen's innocent act, though, are you?" Sarah guessed. "Even if she isn't..." She spat the word out- "_Our_ Helen Cutter. I can't see her being anything else."

"Not for a second," Connor snapped. "We'll catch her."

"You have a plan?" Sarah asked hopefully, despite what she read in her friends' body language. Abby sighed. Connor's shoulders slumped slightly.

"No."

ARGH!

"Then why tell me all of this?"

_Besides for getting me all stirred up? _As if the trauma of her husband being wiped from existence, of giving birth in a strange world with no one but strangers by her side, of her body roiling with various hormones wasn't bad enough. They had to go and throw into the pot the only person she'd ever been able to call 'evil' in her entire life. And all the baggage that came with her detestable presence.

"Just keep your eyes peeled," Connor urged. "We'll figure this out. We'll make it right..." His gaze fell towards the bundle wrapped in Sarah's arms. "For her."

Sarah simply nodded, unable to voice her gratitude for her friends. How had Cutter done this alone? Well, however unnerving it had been, it wasn't quite the same thing as your child missing a parent on top of losing the person you loved. And callous as it sounded, Cutter had at least gotten some variation of the woman back in his life through Jenny Lewis, as tragically as it had all ended.

Connor cleared his throat sharply, interrupting Sarah's thoughts, drawing her attention to the man who he stepped aside to allow past.

Oh, water. She had complained that the hospital's tap tasted funny, and Stephen Hart had dashed out like a knight in shining armour to fetch her a more palatable bottled variant.

/He's sweet,/ She forced herself to think. /C'mon, real smile./

She pictured Becker's reaction that time he forgot himself and fetched her cardigan before she had even mentioned that she was cold, draping it over her shoulders and saying "Here, love." He had realized his slip in decorum relatively quickly, but he had possessed an audience of amused looks from various ARC personnel. She had kissed him on the cheek, just to further is discomfort.

"Thanks, love," she said to her 'husband' managing a genuine smile over the remembrance of her lost one.

"We'd better get back to the ARC," Abby offered, clearing the edge of Sarah's bed for Stephen to take her place. "C'mon, Connor."

The three anachronisms exchanged reassuring looks before the young pair of creature-hunters departed, once more leaving Sarah alone with a stranger who apparently loved her, and the child of a man who never existed.

'Awkward' did not even come close to covering it.

* * *

**A/N: I didn't realize there would be so much bloody exposition for this plot (which I am most apparently incapable of rendering in an entertaining manner). Sigh…**


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: Short, but better than waiting another couple of months, right? **

**

* * *

**24 days and 3 hours had elapsed since Sarah Page's world had fallen apart.

How had that happened? Time just seemed to ebb away. And yet the pain in her heart was reborn along with the sun every morning. She felt weak. Weak and utterly mad. And guilty.

Guilty that she had not fixed things yet, that she had not done more to bring Tru's father back to them. But it was for Tru she had taken this time, played along with this world that was wrong. Or even bothered to get out of bed in the morning.

It was her baby girl who had taken this time. And she did not regret being with her, caring for her, protecting her. If she were entirely honest, the moment she held her daughter in her arms, Becker was no longer the most important person in her life.

She didn't love him any less. If anything, she loved him more than ever for the gift he'd given her. And she _would_ get him back.

But first, she had to get back into the ARC. See this 'different' Helen Cutter for herself, figure out what she was up to. Abby and Connor had been frustratingly silent on the planning-to-set-the-timeline-right front.

Growling at the pointless work displayed on the computer screen, Sarah closed the laptop. She checked on Tru, fast asleep in the nursery, then prowled about the flat picking up assorted debitage of everyday life, ultimately settling to puttering about the kitchen.

A cup of tea.

Her mum always swore it'd fix anything. Restless nerves? Cup of Tea to calm one. Problem you couldn't wrap your mind around? Cup of Tea to concentrate. Broken heart? Cup of Tea... well, she couldn't even believe her mum would prescribe a hot beverage for that.

But damned if her mother wasn't on to something!

Sarah's thoughts began to steep before the water was even warm. By the time the kettle was hot, she was sat once more on the sofa before her laptop, glued to the display. Despite being on maternity leave from the ARC, she had demanded some relevant work to keep from going completely mad in a world filled with spit-up and diapers. And since this timeline's Sarah Page was basically the same, had been helping to build a model similar to Nick Cutter's, it was work she could take home with her.

Except it was Helen Cutter's model, she corrected herself. Which was key. If Helen was who Helen claimed to be, an honourable paleontologist working to save people from creatures and figure out anomalies, then her goals would be what Nick Cutter's had been.

Her obsession would be this model.

The model saved to a shared network on the ARC server, to which Connor had set her laptop up to tie into automatically. Sarah opened the log-on history for the genealogy program (oddly enough it was the best software fit onto which to graft the model). She called up the last three months. Multiple log-ons every day, hours at a time, for both 'SPAGE' and 'HCUTTER'. She scrolled down...and down.

And there, precisely 24 days and 4 hours ago, the last log-on for 'HCUTTER'. Sarah scrolled down through the rest of the history just to be sure, but there was only her own username over the past few weeks.

Why else would a woman so obviously obsessed with a project suddenly stop, on the same day, at the same moment the universe bent? Because this Helen Cutter had no need for a model that could predict anomalies. This Helen Cutter was _the_ Helen Cutter, who knew so much, who saw so much she had gone completely insane.

"Gotcha!" Sarah exclaimed, immediately regretting her exclamation as the baby woke from her nap and began to cry.

Well, good thing she was up, anyway. It was time for a little outing...


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's note: Now we're getting somewhere… if anyone is still interested in the conclusion of this twisted tale (okay…that's still a little ways off).**

* * *

Sarah rifled through papers.

It seemed what was called for in this particular brand of circumstances... At least, it's what everyone always did, wasn't it?

But, why, really?

It was so obviously useless. Even those not in their right minds would never keep their evil plans on the top of their desks in their rather public office, amongst travel vouchers, field reports and the latest paleontological journals.

Now, desk drawers...

_Ooh, a locked one._

Gently, she shifted the infant sleeping in the sling against her chest. With slightly more mobility, Sarah was able to crouch down level with the drawer and evaluate the challenge it posed.

She pulled a bobby-pin from her hair, loosing some black locks to tickle her cheek.

Wasn't that why plucky, adventurous (and/or nosy) women used hair fasteners at all?

She shoved the wire into the keyhole and twisted it about in a wholly unscientific manner. With a click, the mechanism gave way.

_Wow_, she thought. _It actually worked._

With another glance round to ensure the coast remained clear, she pulled the drawer open. Given the stories she had heard about Helen Cutter, Sarah half-expected the desk to explode in a spectacular shower of plastic, metal and glass.

Hesitating slightly, she peered into the depths of the drawer.

It contained pencils.

Apparently, employees at the ARC were just as prone to the fallacy of workers everywhere, and free-range office supplies were not safe. Sarah couldn't deny she oft found her favourite writing implements MIA. And if she were to be brutally honest, she sure as hell stol-_borrowed_ some of her coworker's. But still, all that work for nothing but pencils in varying degrees of sharpness?

How was this piddling about getting her an iota closer to being back in _his_ arms?

"Damn!" the archaeologist cursed in quiet frustration. The baby stirred.

"Pardon my language, Tru," she whispered apology, holding her daughter close and rising to her feet. Her eyes desperately scanned the office crowded with just so much _stuff_. The lack of hours Helen Cutter was putting into the anomaly model may have been proof enough for Sarah, but for anyone else it would only evidence a waning work ethic.

A book caught her eye. Up on the shelves, tucked neatly amongst the other volumes and tomes. _On the Origin of Species by Means of Natural Selection. _As twisted as Helen was, there were some consistencies about the woman. At least, Sarah hoped it were the case.

Unintentionally, she held her breath as she carefully slid the book from its home. Almost as soon as it was free, a small, soft leather-bound book slipped from between the false covers. Part of Sarah was saddened by the butchery of the first edition of Charles Darwin's legacy, but the revelation was far more satisfying.

There was no mistaking Helen Cutter's journal.

Sarah Page had held it in her hands before. It seemed so long ago that she had delved deep into the depths of insanity denoted on the yellowing pages of the worn memorandum. With a quick check upon the baby snuggled into her chest, thankfully still asleep, Sarah began to page through the journal cursorily.

After a mere few seconds, she could no longer stand the suspense of reading the proper way, and went for the cheater's method. She turned it over and began flipping through from the end. The blank pages went on for quite a bit, until finally she found the last entry.

It wasn't the specific content of the ramblings that eased the tension in Sarah's shoulders. It was the fact that so much of the journal was blank. The last entry was far, far earlier than it had been the last time she had perused the journal. No mention of apocalypses, of having to stop Nick Cutter, of site 333...

This was an earlier version of Helen Cutter.

Why hadn't the possibility occurred to them before? The woman ultimately met her end by raptor in the Holocene. But she had been hopping through anomalies for who knew how many years prior. A decade or so in their linear 21st century timeline could've been many for her, or mere days. Her life was not linear. She lived it jumping from epoch to epoch. Danny Quinn had witnessed her death, but that didn't mean she was entirely dead to them.

For a brief moment, Sarah was overcome with the triumph of the discovery. She near ran to find Connor, Abby, Danny -even Lester- and show them her proof that the world was wrong and it was Helen's doing. Then her sense of preservation kicked in. The woman was dangerous. Lester was a rock, not likely to be swayed from what he believed to be true reality.

Nerves kicked in again, the fear of discovery now greater that she held the vital key to fixing the timeline in her hands. Hastily, she made her way to the photocopy machine in Helen's office, praying that it wouldn't take long to duplicate every smidgeon of information from the nutter's journal.

The only sound in the office was the clack and hum of the machine set to its task and her fingers impatiently drumming upon the top of the device. Every moment that passed increased her anxiety until she found herself looking over her shoulder every few seconds.

No doubt picking up on Sarah's nerves, Tru stirred awake and began to fuss, a small hand fisting in her blouse. Taking a few deep breaths, Sarah first tried to calm herself before she rocked and consoled the baby. She stopped her quiet attentions to her daughter only to turn the pages of the journal and press the copy button.

She almost sighed in relief when she pushed the button to duplicate the last page, or in this case, the first page of the memorandum. That was until she heard the footsteps in the hall.

When she heard the other set of footsteps and the voices, she did sigh in relief. Someone had stopped Helen to ask her a question about what exactly, Sarah couldn't make out and did not rightly care. It bought her a few seconds, maybe a minute, but there was no way out of the office without Helen knowing of her presence.

She grabbed the paper copies out of the tray, folded them and tucked them in behind Tru in the sling. She practically ran toward the shelf, scooping up the false cover and sandwiching the journal in it as the door handle wobbled. Her hand was still raised to the shelf when the hateful woman entered.

"Is there something I can help you with?" Helen asked, poorly hidden disdain in her voice. Sarah turned and faced her with what she hoped was a much better false geniality.

"I wanted to double check something for the model but I've seemed to have entirely misplaced my _Origin of Species_," she explained. "I figured you'd have one lying around and wouldn't mind if I..." Just to test the woman, Sarah went to pick the volume off the shelf.

"Not that one," Helen said sharply, adding. "It's a first edition. Very fragile."

She walked over to a precarious stack of books and picked through it, eyeing Sarah suspiciously all the while. For her part, the new mother maintained her civil facade. The lying bitch handed her a recent publication of the classic treatise. Sarah accepted it with a smile.

"Thanks," she said. Helen stopped her, peering into the bundle held against Sarah's chest and reaching out to stroke the infant's cheek with the back of a finger. Only by setting her teeth could Sarah refrain from flinching. Talk about insult on top of injury!

"She's a pretty thing," Helen observed of the baby. Sarah fought the urge to punch her square on the nose in the way Becker had taught her to defend herself.

Instead she gave her thanks for the compliment and vacated the room in as easy a manner as she were capable of. After she had made her way to the safety of her own office, shut the door behind her and sat down, she took a few minutes to calm her breathing.

Tru became all-out fussy. Sarah took the opportunity of nursing her baby girl as much as for the meditative calm it rendered upon her as for seeing to her daughter's hunger.

Everything was going to be okay. She now had Helen's plans. They took some interpreting, but Sarah had gotten inside the mad woman's head before. Last time, she had almost fallen to pieces. But she had Becker by her side. They never would've gotten Connor and Abby, and Danny back without him. Now, now she was on her own.

No. She had Tru. And while the three week old infant took more of Sarah's attention and offered no actual physical assistance, she was a solid rock in her existence. Her center and her imperative to fix everything.

She would figure out what Helen Cutter had done. She would reverse the damage.

The only question was _How?

* * *

_

**A/N: LA LA LA…. Angst coming up next. And Stephen (I know I've been neglecting/avoiding him, but to be frank, he was never one of my favourites…)**


End file.
